hannah_chapter1: (Fatrix)
Title: Performance Part IV
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. London, 1969. Christopher Wolstenholme runs the biggest criminal gang in the city. Two police officers are sent to infiltrate his organisation.
Feedback: Will keep me warm on long, lonely nights.
Disclaimer: Nothing real here, just more demented ramblings.

Someone knocks at the door and Christopher Wolstenholme raises his head.

"Come in."

Simon walks into the office, nervous and trying not to show it. The boss has never called him down here so late.

"Thanks for coming down, Simon. Drink?"

"No, that's alright, Mr. Wolstenholme."

Wolstenholme pours himself a glass of whisky and laughs at the expression on his underling's face.

"Calm youself, Simon, before you have a heart attack. Would I be offering you drinks if you were in trouble?"

"You would if you were thinking of glassing me."

"Fair point.But I'm not, so you can breathe easy. I just want to talk to you. Get a chair and park yourself."

Simon sits and waits for the boss to get to the point.

"Our firm is growing, faster than I ever could have dreamed it would. We're pushing into new areas, here at home and with the big boys across the water. There's more going on than we can handle. We need more people. Fresh blood. Better blood."

"What d'you mean, better blood?"

"Muscle's all well and good, it has its uses, but I need more than that. Sharp lads, boys who can think on their feet."

"What do you need from me?"

"Go to all the usual places, keep your eyes and ears open. You find anyone you think'll be a good fit, bring them to me. Do this right and you'll get a nice bonus."


Dominic lies on his side, staring into the darkness. He shouldn't have lashed out at Matthew like that. But he couldn't help himself. When the other man admitted what he was, his eyes met Dominic's and Dominic felt naked, like his own secret shame was written all over his face, where anyone who cared to look could see it.

Fear made him lash out and, while he's ashamed of his outburst, he can't help but feel a certain sullen resentment when he thinks of Matthew. Here's a man with none of the doubts that weigh Dominic down, free in all the ways Dominic is not. Free to admit what he is, to indulge himself, to fuck other men without having to sneak around...


He really shouldn't have gone down that road. Oh, he's had impure thoughts about Sergeant Bellamy, plenty of them. He's always pushed them out of his head, ashamed of his lustful feelings for a man he'd always assumed was nice and normal and straight. But now he knows better and the images pour into his head and these thoughts aren't just impure, they're downright obscene...

...Dominic stumbles into the bathroom and falls to his knees in front of the toilet. Underpants down, hand on his cock, it doesn't take long. And when he comes, he's thinking of a pair of blue eyes. He rests his forehead against the rim of the bowl and then he's bent over it, moaning as everything he ate and drank today comes back up.


The guv'nor is late, but Matthew is already in the office when Dominic gets there. Dominic looks at him, remembers what he did the other night and quickly looks away, ashamed.

"I really disgust you, don't I, Dominic? You can't even be in the same room as me, can you?"

"No, I - "

"Being queer isn't a disease, you know. You won't catch it."

"I know that," Dominic looks at his feet, then right at Matthew, "I'm sorry about the other night. Things aren't going so well, you know, at home, I'm a bit on edge at the moment."

"At the moment?"

Dominic ignores the sarcasm and ploughs ahead.

"So yeah, I'm on edge and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Yes. Believe me or don't, I don't care."

Matthew stares at him for a long moment, then shrugs.

"Alright, you're sorry. And yeah, I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have known a Roman'd go mad over that. But let's get one thing straight: not being queer doesn't make you better than me."

"I never said that - "

"And I'm not going to take a load of shit over it either."

Dominic's reply is lost when the door crashes open and Inspector Kirk strides in. Matthew and Dominic snap to attention, the action automatic in the presence of a superior officer. Kirk gives them a quick once over and snorts in disgust.

"No, fuck's sake, this won't do, won't do at all. You both look like you've got sticks up your arses. Slouch, try and look casual, your lives might depend on it. And another thing: you're too neat, way too tidy for Wolstenholme."

"I thought Wolstenholme liked his boys smart, guv," Matthew ventures, and Kirk rounds on him.

"Shut your fucking noise, I'm talking. As to that other thing, yes, Wolstenholme likes smartly-dressed boys ... and he likes to be the one to smarten them up. He likes taking scruffy boys and shining them up. That brings me to another point, and this is an important one. You're not his boys and you never will be. You're mine, not his. Wolstenholme is good to his boys and you might decide you like it on his side of the fence. But never forget what you are."

"We won't," says Dominic and Matthew nods in agreement.

"Good, because if there's one thing I hate more than a criminal, it's a broken copper. Now, listen up. Take the next three - no, four - days off. I want you both back here with stubble, messy hair and casual clothes, first thing Friday morning - "

The door closes on Kirk's final words as Dominic makes a sharp exit. The inspector looks at Matthew and raises his eyebrows.

"Lacks finesse, does Sergeant Howard. Can't quite get the hang of social graces. But what the fuck, I'm not sending the two of you to a garden party. D'you think you can keep him in line?"

"I'm sure I can."

Kirk watches Matthew glide out the door, then looks down at the sergeant's file. Thoughtful and soft-spoken, Sergeant Bellamy's an easy man to dismiss as a pushover. But there's a ruthless streak lurking just beneath that calm surface and anyone who takes him at face value is in for a surprise. The sergeant can, when circumstances demand it, be a very unpleasant man. And then there's Howard, the hothead, the clenched fist. A finger-breaker, a bollock-kicker, the one other coppers bring in when they want to scare the piss ( sometimes in a very literal sense) out of some mouthy little toerag.

Bellamy and Howard, Howard and Bellamy, opposites in every way. But all of Kirk's instincts tell him they'll make a perfect pair. He rubs his hands together.

Wolstenholme won't stand a chance.
hannah_chapter1: (Banjos)
Title: Performance Part III
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. London, 1969. Christopher Wolstenholme runs the biggest criminal gang in the city. Two police officers are sent to infiltrate his organisation.
Feedback: Will keep me warm on long, lonely nights.
Disclaimer: Nothing real here, just more demented ramblings.

Dominic works the bag, trying to sweat it all out. But it's not working and he can't stop thinking about last night, about the park. He thought he couldn't sink any lower. He was wrong, last night was the worst one yet. He went behind a bush with two men. Dominic's face heats up when he remembers how it was: him on his hands and knees, mouth and arse full of cock.




But he can't stop.

He clenches his jaw and concentrates on his workout, the smack of his gloves on the bag. Finding a rhythm he likes, he lets go and loses himself in the old, familiar routine. Mind blank, body pushed to its limits, this is as close to peace as Dominic ever gets. Too bad it never lasts.

"Very nice."

Dominic's head snaps up.

"Oh, it's you."

Matthew is standing by the ring.

"I like your form. You've got some nice footwork going on there."

"Thanks. Something I can do for you, Sergeant Bellamy?"


"You what?"

"Ranks, titles, no use for them where we're going. You should call me Matthew."

Dominic glares at him.

"You telling me how to do my job?"

"No, just saying we should be less formal, that's all."

Dominic's shoulder's slump.

"That makes sense, I suppose."

"I can call you Dominic, then?"

"Call me whatever you want, I don't care."

Matthew walks over and taps the bag.

"You a lightweight, Dominic?"

"That's right."

"Me too," Matthew waves a hand at the ring, "fancy a quick knockabout?"

"Nah, not in the mood. Not today."

Dominic goes into the locker room and sits on the bench. He pulls at the glove laces with his teeth. He was hoping Matthew would take the hint and leave, but no such luck. The other man follows him in and stands over him.

"We could go for a drink."

"I can't, I have to get home to the wife."

Matthew sighs. "Dominic, why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could have fooled me."

"I don't even know you."

"Then we should fix that. Come on, come and have a drink with me."

Dominic thinks about it for a minute.

"Go on, then. It'll have to be a quick one, mind."

"Sweet, I'll meet you outside."

Dominic pulls his gloves off and throws them in the corner. He washes, changes and joins Matthew outside the gym. The Red Lion is just over the road. Matthew gets the first round and they find a table in the corner. Dominic sips his pint and Matthew points at the chain around his neck.

"You a Roman?"

Dominic fiddles with the crucifix.

"Yes I am, so what? Nothing wrong with being Catholic."

"I never said there was."

Religion's obviously a touchy subject, so Matthew tries to steer the conversation into safer waters.

"Been in London long?"

"About ten months."

"Where you from originally?"

"Stockport, but we moved to Brighton about seven years ago."

"You were around for the second battle of Hastings, then?"

"Oh yeah, down on the beach with all the mods and rockers, fuckin' hell. I was still in uniform then. One of those little mod bastards threw something at me, a brick or a piece of wood, something heavy. It took my helmet right off."

"What, broke the strap and everything?"


"I didn't think that could happen."

"Trust me, it can."

"Why'd you leave Brighton?"

"It was Valerie's idea, she wanted to get away from the sea."


"My wife."

"Oh. Been married long?"

"Eleven years."

"Eleven years? What did you do, get married when you were twelve or something?"

"Eighteen, actually."

"Fuck me, that's young."

Dominic shrugs.

"Yeah, well. What about you, Matthew, you married?"

Matthew holds up his left hand, which is bare of rings.

"Nah, I live with my mum."


"Yeah, someone's got to look after a useless lump like me, keep me fed, wash my dirty underpants."

"You should get yourself a girlfriend."

"Girls don't really interest me."

"What are you saying?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"You're one of them?"

"If by 'one of them' you mean homosexual, then yes, I am."

Dominic stands so quickly he almost knocks his pint over. Matthew grabs his arm and Dominic pulls away angrily.

"Why did you tell me that? What made you think I'd want to know? Jesus, you're a fuckin' queer and you have the nerve to brag about it? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't, I mean, I'm not ashamed or anything, but I do keep it quiet, especially at work."

"Why tell me, then?"

"I dunno, I just, I thought it might help you trust me if I shared something with you, something private."

Putting his hands on either side of the table, Dominic leans down until their faces are almost touching.

"You want to share, Matthew," he hisses, "fine, I'll share. You want to know why I got married so young? I had to. She was pregnant and I didn't have a choice. So we got married and she lost the baby and it just went downhill from there. We're not a couple, we're strangers who share a house. But we can't divorce, no, not a nice little pair of Catholics like us. And I'll tell you something else: the child wasn't even mine. Happy now? Have I shared enough?"

Dominic storms out of the pub. Matthew doesn't try to stop him. Dominic gets to the end of the street and looks back at the pub. He's torn: he wants to go back and apologise for lashing out like that. But he's afraid of making things worse, so he walks away. Oh, this partnership's off to a great start.

hannah_chapter1: (Banjos)
Title: Performance Part II
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom, Dom/other, Matt/other
Rating: R
Summary: AU. London, 1969. Christopher Wolstenholme runs the biggest criminal gang in the city. Two police officers are sent to infiltrate his organisation. Both are homosexual. One accepts it, one represses it.
Feedback: Will keep me warm on long, lonely nights.
Disclaimer: Nothing real here, just more demented ramblings.

"...You're a sad and pathetic man. You're a homosexual and you don't want to be, but there's nothing you can do to change it. Not all the prayers to your God, not all the analysis you can buy, in all the years you've got left to live. You may one day be able to know a heterosexual life - if you want it desperately enough, if you pursue it with the fervor with which you annihilate. But you'll always be homosexual as well. Always Michael. Always. Until the day you die."
The Boys in the Band (1970)

The bedroom is dark and Dominic likes it that way. Propped up on his elbows, he thrusts into the woman beneath him. No heat, no passion here. He's just going through the motions, doing his duty as a husband. This only happens once a week but even this is too often for Dominic's liking. He grits his teeth and thrusts harder, desperate to come and be done with it. He doesn't want to do this, but it's the only thing that works: he thinks about hard bodies, tight muscles, arms pinning him down, being used, being abused...

That does the trick. Dominic finishes and rolls into his side, facing away from her. Lying here, in this bed, less than a foot away from another person, Dominic has never felt more alone. He suddenly feels like crying. How long can he keep this up? How long before he breaks?


The man on the bed looks up as Matthew enters the room.

"Evening, sergeant."


Trevor laces his hands behind his head and spreads his legs slightly, giving Matthew a better look.

"Eager are we, Trev? Kit already off and ready to go."

"Just trying to make things easier for you, sergeant."

"How very thoughtful of you."

The other man scratches his chest. "I've been thinking about this agreement of ours. I think we need to make some changes."

Matthew stops unbuttoning his shirt and picks up Trevor's trousers.

Trevor sits up quickly. "What are you doing?"

"Going through your pockets."

"You can't do that!"

"Can't? Did you just tell me I can't do something?" Matthew reaches into his own pocket, pulls out his warrant card and holds it up.

"This says I can. This says I can do anything I want. I'm a policeman."

He pulls a small bag of pills out of Trevor's pocket and goes through it.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? French blues, purple hearts, black bombers. A nice little pharmacy."

Matthew throws the bag and it bounces off Trevor's forehead.

"Now, listen up, sunshine, because I'm only going to say this once. There is no agreement. I'm a copper and you are drug dealing filth. I should have nicked you months ago. But I prefer you where you are, free to pick up all the gossip and pass it on to me. Keep doing that and we'll be sweet. Mess me about, try to cross me and I'll put you away so fast your head will spin."

"Are you sure you want to do that, sergeant? You could be taking a big risk. What would your collegues say if they found out about us? What would they say if they knew Sergeant Bellamy is a shirt-lifter, a filthy queer who screws his snitch?"

Matthew continues undressing as he speaks. "I'm sure they'd be disgusted. I might even have to leave the Force. I could always do something else, though, it wouldn't be the end of the world. But what about you, eh Trev? What would your friends do if they knew about all the ways you bend over for me? How long would it be before you were fished out of the Thames?"

Naked, Matthew joins Trevor on the bed. "Stop trying to be clever, it doesn't suit you, You can't out think me, every way you look, I've got you beaten."

Matthew's hand cups the other man's scrotal sac. "You could even say I've got you by the bollocks."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"No, that's the lot."

"Alright, then." Matthew gets up and puts his clothes back on.

"Not staying?"

"No, got things to do."

"Have a good night, sergeant."

Matthew pulls the door open. "Mind how you go."


DI Kirk looks up. "Ah, Sergeant Bellamy. Do sit down."

"Yes, guv."

Matthew takes a seat and waits for the inspector to speak. Kirk has quite a few things on his desk: a newspaper, some photos and a file. Matthew's guessing it's his.

Kirk lifts his head from the file. "You been in London for how long now, sergeant?"

"Coming up on a year, guv."

"And you were in Devon before that, is that right?"

"Yes, guv. I was in Teignmouth."

Kirk slaps the desk. "And you have the nerve to call yourself a copper? You trundle around a fucking toy village and you think that's enough to make it in the city? Well, let me tell you something, Bellamy, this is London! We work for a living here!"

Matthew is surprised by the inspector's outburst but doesn't show it. He just sits quietly in his chair, his calm expression never changing. Kirk smiles.

"You don't rattle easily, do you, sergeant?"

"No, guv."

"That's good. That's very good."

The inspector holds up the paper so Matthew can see the picture on the page.

"Do you know who this is?"

"That's Christopher Wolstenholme, guv."

"Indeed it is. Christopher Anthony Wolstenholme. Local boy made good. Successful businessman, good family man. Gives to charity, does a lot for his local community, it's all in this article. Wouldn't surprise me if the journalist fell to his knees and gave Wolstenholme's knob a quick polish when the interview was over."

Kirk drops the paper and holds up two photographs.

"But then, he's never had to clean up any of the messes Wolstenholme's left behind. Never seen the truth behind the carefully constructed public image. Christopher Wolstenholme, the gang boss. He's into protection rackets, drug dealing, prostitution, the smut book business and more. Lots more. Then there's all the trouble between him and the Cornell mob, fighting over the West End. That's supposed to be neutral ground, open to everyone. But each gang wants the whole pie and it's getting hairy out there. West End? Wild West more like. Nobody killed yet, but we've had plenty of boys ambulanced off to the blood factory."

"It's a disgrace, guv."

"Too fucking right it is. Wolstenholme's a disease, a cancer eating away at my city and I want him gone. But it's impossible. His boys love him, so no one will talk and we can't get anything to stick to him. We did manage to turn one member of his gang but it was hard going. Then they found out about him."

The DI shows Matthew another photograph.

"Do you know where we found this body, sergeant?"

"Your front garden, guv."

"That's right. In my garden, tied to my apple tree, an extra 'fuck you' from Wolstenholme. Well, I'm not going to stand for it. I'm going to bring this bastard down and you're going to help."


"Turning one of Wolstenholme's men won't work, as we've learned to our cost. What I'm thinking is, we send you and another copper in to join the gang. Tell me, Bellamy, do you know Dominic Howard at all?"

"A little bit, guv."

"What do you think of him? Be honest."

"I think he's one wrong word away from giving someone a rare hiding, guv."

"He is tightly wound, isn't he? But that could work to our advantage. Wolstenholme will probably have you out mixing it up with Cornell's boys, a hot head like Howard could work well there. But I need a cool head as well, someone to keep him in line, which is where you come in."

"I don't think Sergeant Howard will want to work with me, guv. I don't think he likes me."

"You let me worry about that, sergeant. I'll talk to Howard. Are you on board? Yes or no."

Matthew doesn't think twice. "I'm in, guv."


Dominic is in Kirk's office, having the job explained to him, lots of shit about having to put on a good show, hiding his true copper's face behind a mask. Dominic could laugh, he really could. Masks? Don't talk to him about masks. He's been wearing a mask for as long as he can remember.

He doesn't rush to commit himself and Kirk's frustration grows.

"Alright, sergeant, my 'cleaning up the streets of London' speech obviously isn't working. Looking at your file, I see you're ambitious, a rising man. If ambition is the only language you speak, let me put it in terms you'll understand. This is a very big case. Pull it off and you'll have my office one day. You might even have a bigger office on a higher floor if you play your cards right."

Kirk looks through Dominic's file. "I see you're a married man."

"Yes, guv. Her name's Valerie."

"Been together long?"

"Since we were sixteen, married at eighteen."

The inspector smiles and Dominic can actually feel the man's next words rushing at him, like a punch he can't dodge. "Childhood sweethearts, eh?"

"Yes, guv." Oh, how Dominic hates those words, he could cheerfully strangle everyone who's ever said them to him.

"Of course, you know better than to mention any of this to her."

"Of course." Dominic hesitates, then goes on. "But why am I being paired with Bellamy?"

"Don't you like Bellamy?"

"I don't really know him, guv. But I really don't think we'll make a good team."

"I beg to differ. I think you'll be a perfect team. He's been in London for almost twelve months, you've been here for ten. You both know your way around, but you're still fresh faces. You were never bobbies on the beat here, so there's less chance of you being rumbled by Wolstenholme and his gang. And you've both done some boxing, so you can handle yourselves. Wolstenholme loves tough boys, blokes who think they're a bit tasty. He'll wet his frilly little knickers over a couple of sluggers like you."

Dominic makes one last try. "I still think I could handle this by myself, guv."

"Not a chance. I need two of you, safer that way. With two, you can watch each other's backs, keep each other in line. He fucks up it's your fault, you fuck up it's his. That way I don't have to go around trusting everybody. Now, are you in?"

"I'm in."

"Good. Oh, and sergeant?"

"Yes, guv?"

"Whatever problem you have with Bellamy, it has no place here. I suggest you get over it, quick as you can, if you want to crack this case."

"Yes, guv."

Dominic leaves the inspector's office, all the words he can't say choking him. Dominic can't talk about the way Sergeant Bellamy unsettles him. He can't tell the inspector any of this or explain how, every time he looks in Matthew Bellamy's eyes, he can feel the mask he wears beginning to slip.
hannah_chapter1: (Leo)
Title: Performance Part I
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. London, 1969. Christopher Wolstenholme runs the biggest criminal gang in the city. Two police officers are sent to infiltrate his organisation. Both are homosexual. One accepts it, one represses it.
Feedback: Yes please
Disclaimer: Nothing real here, just more demented ramblings.

"The only performance that makes it, that makes it all the way, is the one that achieves madness."
Performance (1970)

The room is dark. One man, naked and bloody, lies on the floor. Five men look down at him, not speaking. The tallest of them finally breaks the silence.

"I'm very disappointed, Davey. I thought you were better than this."

Davey looks up at him. "Please Mr. Wolstenholme, I never, I didn't - "

"Ah, but I know you did. You've been talking to the police. We don't like that. Nobody likes a grass, do they, boys?"

"No, Mr. Wolstenholme."

"We know just what to do with people who tell tales out of school, don't we?"

"Yes, Mr. Wolstenholme."

"Alright then. I'll leave you to it. Walk out with me, Simon."

Simon follows Christopher out of the warehouse, both men ignoring the screams. Christopher's driver sees them and snaps to attention, holding the back door open for his boss. Christoper turns back to Simon with a smile.

"How's your little girl, Simon? Out of hospital?"

"Yes sir, she's much better now." Simon clears his throat. "Thank you, sir. We owe you so much, you've done so much for our family."

Christopher waves away the praise. "It's nothing. I care about my boys, I like to think of us as one big family, and families should look out for each other." His face darkens. "And it hurts me when one of my lads turns his back on me."

Simon looks back at the warehouse, thinking about the traitor inside. "Don't worry, sir. We'll take care of this."

"I know you will. You've never let me down. Well, I'd better get home to the wife. Oh, one more thing. Make sure the police find the body. I want to send a very clear message. I want them to see what happens when people try to take liberties with us."

Christopher gets into the back seat, the driver shuts the door and gets in himself. Simon watches the big car drive away.


The dark-haired man closes the front door.

"Matthew? Is that you, love?"

"Yes, Mum."

He takes off his coat and goes into the living room. His mother is sitting in the chair by the fire, knitting.

"How was work?"


"You're a bit late tonight."

"I went to the gym. Punched the bag for a bit."

"I thought you might have found yourself a nice young man. I thought you might be out all night."


"What? You've nothing to ashamed of. You know I'm alright with it, I've told you before."

"I know. But I don't want people to look down on you because of me."

"Oh, Matthew." She puts down her knitting and holds out her arms. "Come here."

He's too big to fit in her lap now, so he kneels on the floor and lays his head on her lap. She strokes his hair.

"I don't care what other people think of me. I care about you. Your Dad and me, we kept trying to have children but it never happened and the doctors said it never would. But then I got pregnant with you and they said I'd never carry you to term. But I did. Then they said you wouldn't live, too small, too sickly. But you proved them all wrong. You're my miracle and I don't care what you do, just so long as you're happy. If your Dad was still here, he'd feel the same way."

Matthew smiles as his mother's words wash over him. He lifts his head from her lap and kisses her cheek.

"Love you, Mum."

"I love you too, son. Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I'm not hungry."

"What about a cup of tea, then?"

"You stay here, I'll make it."

He gets up and goes into the kitchen. He fills the kettle and hums to himself, thinking about how lucky he is to have a mother like her.


The couple eat in silence. The blond man stares at his plate and the food on it, lost in his own world, ignoring the woman sitting opposite him. His wife doesn't even try to get his attention. His indifference used to upset her, but now she just doesn't care. They do this every night, going through the same routine, like actors sleepwalking through a play they've performed a thousand times before.

They finish their meal and he sits in the living room, drinking tea and reading the paper while she clears the table and does the washing up. She joins him in the living room and picks up a book of her own. At nine o' clock he gets up and puts on his shoes.

"Where are you going, Dominic?" As if she didn't know.

"For a walk, I just want to stretch my legs." The lie hangs in the air between them.

She chooses to ignore it, like she always does. "Don't stay out too long."

"I won't." He kisses her cheek and leaves the house.

Dominic's shoes crunch on the gravel path as he walks through the park. Another man is suddenly beside him, matching him stride for stride. They don't look at each other or speak as they step off the path and head into the trees. They don't need to, they both know what they came here for. They both know what goes on in this place after dark.

Dominic presses his cheek into the bark of the tree. His trousers are pulled down and he gasps as the cold air hits his skin. His nails dig into the wood as one wet finger, then two, are shoved inside him. Dominic can feel the stranger's breath, hot and heavy on the back of his neck as the fingers move in and out of him.

The fingers are suddenly gone. Dominic hears the whisper of cloth and then hisses as he feels the stranger's hard flesh push into him. He's not gentle, this man, but Dominic doesn't mind. He welcomes the pain, embraces it. It should hurt, it's only fair. Giving in to such unnatural desires should always be painful.


"Calm down, Kirk. It's over."

"It's not over, guv. I won't let them get away with this. Look at these pictures! Look at what they did!"

"I've seen them, Inspector. But we'll never be able to connect Wolstenholme and his mob to this, he'll make sure of that. How long did it take just to find this one man, one person willing to talk?"

"Almost a year."

"And they found him and they killed him. The case is closed. We'll never turn another member of his gang, not after this."

"We need to try something else."

"Explain yourself."

"I want to take a couple of officers and send them to join Wolstenhome's gang."

"It's dangerous."

"I know."

"You'll need a couple of likely lads, boys that can really perform. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Yes guv, I do."

Kirk opens his briefcase and lays two files on the DCI's desk. BELLAMY is the name on the first file. HOWARD is the name on the second.


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